I am sitting in my office going through my blog after a long time, almost a year, determined to add something today. There are a few ideas i had drafted in the past year but none of them seem interesting once they are typed out in black and white. I guess things are a lot colourful when they are inside your head. I start to dwell on a new topic, try to build on it, check a few things online and finally give up when i reach an article on brain death. I cross my hands on the desk and rest my forehead on them and close my eyes for a bit. Getting the idea out of my head, thinking of removing the blog's bookmark from my browser. Thinking... thinking...
Suddenly the office door is kicked open from the outside and three men enter. One leading and two following, dressed in shabby clothes and looking like none of them has seen water for a week except for when they mix it with their drinks, which i'm guessing took place just before they came over. Having spotted me, they come straight towards me making loud noises with their mouths and also by moving objects in their path. Startled as they come closer, i begin to ask them who they are and what they want but before i can complete the first word, the leader pulls out a gun from inside and places it on my forehead and asks, "Are you Midhun?"
Should i say "Yes"? Do they want me alive and don't mind killing the people who aren't me?
Now I should be saying "No". They are obviously looking to for me and in all probability they want to kill me. They don't look like they care of the consequences and they definitely don't look like the practical joking types.
"Are you Midhun?" He shouts again, this time the other two get excited and kick at the table and chair.
"Yes", i stammer. Honesty is the best policy?
He pulls the trigger. BANG!!
I get up. What if something like that really happened? What would happen to me after a death like that. Would there be a me? Would i be in heaven or hell? When would that be decided? Is it already decided? Because the gruesome death that i just went through should be accounted while judging my life. That and all the years that i could not live must have nullified all the wrong that i have done. And some more. I imagine i must be in some place in between where the decision is taken. Standing in front of the judging entity or in a line to meet the judging entity. That person standing in line, does he look like me? would i be carrying my body or would it be just my thoughts or conscience looking like a cloud? Wait a minute....
What if there is no heaven or hell the way we think? What if i don't leave my body? My mind just goes into infinite sleep. I can only dream. I can dream everything, sweet ones and nightmares. Maybe, if i have lived good enough, i get to see only good dreams and if i have done wrong, there would be nightmares playing in endless loops. That looks pretty much like heaven and hell. but wait a minute....
What would happen to my body? That body lying lifeless on that office chair with blood dripping through the leather, to the floor. It would be a mess indeed, taking hours to clear the body, days to clean the place and weeks to get rid of the furniture and still people would hesitate to enter the office for a few months to come. It would take a year for the body tissues to decompose depending on the depth of burial and the waterlogged in the soil and many decades for the bones to become brittle enough to.... Wait a minute....
The guy pulls the trigger, igniting the gun powder in the bullet to set it in motion. The bullet leaves the barrel and enters my head, the time reduced considerably because of the nil distance between the two. It penetrates the skin without any fall in speed. I guess i'm still alive at this point. The sensation of pain racing against the bullet to reach my brain first. The bullet boring through the skull taking it some effort before entering the brain. The soft brain tissues easily burning away to give way to the hot piece of metal that comes out through the back and then through the black chair before finally coming to rest on the wall behind me.
Boy...... If i could write at the speed of my thoughts........
Suddenly the office door is kicked open from the outside and three men enter. One leading and two following, dressed in shabby clothes and looking like none of them has seen water for a week except for when they mix it with their drinks, which i'm guessing took place just before they came over. Having spotted me, they come straight towards me making loud noises with their mouths and also by moving objects in their path. Startled as they come closer, i begin to ask them who they are and what they want but before i can complete the first word, the leader pulls out a gun from inside and places it on my forehead and asks, "Are you Midhun?"
Should i say "Yes"? Do they want me alive and don't mind killing the people who aren't me?
Now I should be saying "No". They are obviously looking to for me and in all probability they want to kill me. They don't look like they care of the consequences and they definitely don't look like the practical joking types.
"Are you Midhun?" He shouts again, this time the other two get excited and kick at the table and chair.
"Yes", i stammer. Honesty is the best policy?
He pulls the trigger. BANG!!
I get up. What if something like that really happened? What would happen to me after a death like that. Would there be a me? Would i be in heaven or hell? When would that be decided? Is it already decided? Because the gruesome death that i just went through should be accounted while judging my life. That and all the years that i could not live must have nullified all the wrong that i have done. And some more. I imagine i must be in some place in between where the decision is taken. Standing in front of the judging entity or in a line to meet the judging entity. That person standing in line, does he look like me? would i be carrying my body or would it be just my thoughts or conscience looking like a cloud? Wait a minute....
What if there is no heaven or hell the way we think? What if i don't leave my body? My mind just goes into infinite sleep. I can only dream. I can dream everything, sweet ones and nightmares. Maybe, if i have lived good enough, i get to see only good dreams and if i have done wrong, there would be nightmares playing in endless loops. That looks pretty much like heaven and hell. but wait a minute....
What would happen to my body? That body lying lifeless on that office chair with blood dripping through the leather, to the floor. It would be a mess indeed, taking hours to clear the body, days to clean the place and weeks to get rid of the furniture and still people would hesitate to enter the office for a few months to come. It would take a year for the body tissues to decompose depending on the depth of burial and the waterlogged in the soil and many decades for the bones to become brittle enough to.... Wait a minute....
The guy pulls the trigger, igniting the gun powder in the bullet to set it in motion. The bullet leaves the barrel and enters my head, the time reduced considerably because of the nil distance between the two. It penetrates the skin without any fall in speed. I guess i'm still alive at this point. The sensation of pain racing against the bullet to reach my brain first. The bullet boring through the skull taking it some effort before entering the brain. The soft brain tissues easily burning away to give way to the hot piece of metal that comes out through the back and then through the black chair before finally coming to rest on the wall behind me.
Boy...... If i could write at the speed of my thoughts........
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